佳人 (杜甫)

The Beautiful Woman (Du Fu)

There is a peerless beauty of a bygone age, dwelling in solitude in an empty valley.

She says she was born of a good family, fallen now, with only grass and trees for company.

Once, turmoil swept through Guanzhong, and her brothers met their deaths.

What does it matter that they held high office? She could not even gather their bones.

The ways of the world despise decline and ruin; all things follow the flickering candle's turn.

Her husband was a fickle man, who took a new bride as beautiful as jade.

The silk tree flower knows its season; mandarin ducks never roost alone.

But she sees only the new bride's smile, and never hears the old wife's tears.

In the mountains, the spring water runs clear; beyond the mountains, the spring water runs turbid.

Her maid sells her pearls and returns; she pulls vines to patch the thatched roof.

She plucks flowers but does not tuck them in her hair; she gathers cypress berries, her hands overflowing.

In the cold of the day, her green sleeves are thin; at dusk, she leans against the tall bamboo.